


fire

by RJam9



Series: a hundred bad days make a hundred good stories [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: ALL ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS ARE COMPLETELY UP TO YOU, Angst, Character Study, Episode: 2013 Xmas The Time of the Doctor, Episode: The Day of the Doctor, Episode: s09e11 Heaven Sent, Episode: s09e12 Hell Bent, Episode: s12e09 Ascension of the Cybermen, Episode: s12e10 The Timeless Children, Fear, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Memories, Somewhat Canon-Complaint, The Doctor (Doctor Who) Needs a Hug, me? self projecting? more likely then you think, not as sad as the other one but still, once again for the doctor, once again the BBC are cowards, we’re having fun with tenses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23576665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RJam9/pseuds/RJam9
Summary: It seemed like they were always burning.///a one-shot about the doctor and their relationship with fear.
Relationships: Eleventh Doctor & Clara Oswin Oswald, Ninth Doctor & Rose Tyler, The Doctor (Academy Era) & The Master (Academy Era), The Doctor (Academy Era)/The Master (Academy Era), The Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan), The War Doctor (Doctor Who) & The Moment, Thirteenth Doctor & The Master (Dhawan), Twelfth Doctor & Clara Oswin Oswald
Series: a hundred bad days make a hundred good stories [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696375
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	fire

**Author's Note:**

> this one is a bit more angry. also Nine is best doctor. also also this is kinda of old but im posting it anyway.
> 
> you can kinda tell which parts I gave up on lmao. anyway enjoy!!

_ Lonely shadows following me _

_ Lonely ghosts come a-calling _

_ Lonely voices talking to me _

_ Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone _

( _once upon a time ... no. once upon several times_. )

Laying on the rooftops, soaking in the sun, they think there’s nowhere else they’d rather be.

Even if the sun makes them blink back tears and the rocks scratch at their hands, they’re content and don’t mind the dirt staining their robes. There’s not a lot of room on the roof, but they’re just lying down so it doesn’t matter.

Beside them, their friend sighs. They turn to face him. His dark hair falls in front of his eyes as he stares up at the twin suns, and they nudge him with their shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” They ask. They should keep quiet, enjoy the peace before they’re found, but when their friend is upset they find  they get upset, too.

Their friend doesn’t turn, eyes trained on the orange sky, unblinking. “Do you ever feel afraid?”

They think of their years before the Academy, alone in the dark in the old creaky barn. Think of facing the Schism and what they saw there, flashes of faces. “Of course. Everyone feels fear.”

Their friend grimaces. “I feel afraid. Right now.”

They chuckle. “Of course you do. Any minute now some teachers gonna find us and yell at us to get back to class.”

( _before the Timelords, before everything we know, there was an explorer._ )

Their friend doesn’t seem convinced. Instead, he appears to get more distraught, chewing at his bottom lip and jiggling his leg. In an effort to placate him, they gently brushed their minds together, sending in feelings of calmness and happiness. A drumbeat echoes in their head, but they ignore it.

He sighs in relief. “Thank you. I’m not afraid anymore.”

A face flashes in their mind. Motherly, kind and they smile and turn back to the sky. The clouds are rolling across it gently and they listen to the hum of people walking on the street below them.

They ignore the nagging feeling in the back of their mind.

( _her name was Tecteun_. )

_ And my mother told me son let it be _

_ Sold my soul to the calling _

_ Sold my soul to a sweet melody _

_ Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone _

“Are you afraid of the big bad wolf, Doctor?”

It tilts its head at them, like a puppy. It’s a monster, a wolf, a predator, but it’s been inside their head. It knows it’s not like most who try and wield it, they’re a monster as well, they don’t feel fear.

And they’re lying .  That’s a lie.

They alway have fear. They just learned to hide it.

(  _ and it was on one of these distant, deserted worlds on the far edge of another galaxy she found something impossible. _ )

The wolf grins at them, all hard edges not quite fitting into place, mashed pieces shoved into wrong-sized containers. It’s eyes glitter with knowledge they don’t possess, and they hate it. It’s been inside their head, seen the name they’ve tried to hide. The name on the lips of this unruly creature makes them seethe.

“Stop calling me Doctor.” They snap.

“That’s the name in your head.” It retorts.

“It shouldn’t be.”

That name was a promise, to themself and to the universe. And they were going to break that promise. They feel a thousand eyes stare at the back of their head, a fly buzzes in their ear. Their past lives judge them, decide a sentence. They speak through the mouth of the Wolf. 

It leans forward, baring teeth like fangs and nails like claws, and grins. And then —

(  _a gateway. a boundary into another unknown dimension or universe_. )

They forget. What did they forget?

(  _Tecteun glimpsed the infinite through that gateway. and beneath the monument, she found a child._ )

_ Oh gimme that fire _

_ Oh gimme that fire _

_ Oh gimme that fire _

_ Burn, burn, burn _

There are many reasons why they don’t sleep, but most prominent are the dreams.

(  _she chose to rescue the foundling and adopt this refugee from another realm as her own_. )

They’ll wake up in the dead of night with things that don’t belong swirling in their head. There’s the normal ones — the war, the screams of children, the falling of Gallifrey — and the ones even farther back, plunging from a telescope or the blurriness of surgery.

But very occasionally, they’ll have a dream not their own. Of needles poking their skin, itchy nights on an uncomfortable bed. They’re vague enough they can’t remember details, but the fear swirling in their hearts is nothing to ignore.

They think it must be someones else memories. They dip into other peoples brains so often it’s like a second nature, and during their sleep their psychic barriers often fall. So, they decide not to sleep.

(  _she searched for clues as to the child's identity_. )

Rose smiles at them. It’s soft, and full of love, so they look away. Every so often, when her hair covers her face or the light hits her eyes just right, they think they’ve seen her before. That they’ve met, years before, on some distant planet. Maybe they’ll smell something off or it’s just the silveriness of her voice, but they can swear she’s familiar.

It makes their hearts skip a beat.

The moments pass and they don’t think about it. They’ve met tons of people, their mind is scrambled. 

They like Rose. She’s happy, but sarcastic when needed, and she’s full of soft colours that don’t hurt their brain. She reminds them of someone but they don’t know who, but when they try to remember it slips through their fingers.

Not knowing who scares them, but they ignore it. They’re good at that.

(  _the child remained a mystery, until playing with a friend, like any other child, there was an accident_. )

And then she absorbs the heart of the TARDIS, and no human can survive that.  No one can survive that, not even a Timelord. Expect Timelords have two hearts, and theirs are bleeding.

_Oh, a thousand faces staring at me_

_Thousand times I've fallen_

_Thousand voices dead at my feet_

_Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone_

(  _the first regeneration of any person on the planet of gallifrey._ )

Loneliness and fear and anger are all emotions they’re familiar with it, but all sit differently inside their chest.

Anger is like a raging inferno, a supernova that explodes behind their forehead. It makes their voice bellow and body soar and people look at them with fear, like watching a wild animal try to attack you behind a glass pane.

Loneliness is like a ache that settles over their entire body. At first, it’s hard to cope with it, and it takes up all of your days and nights and hours and minutes and you can’t ignore the pain. Eventually, it enwraps you like a blanket, and you learn to live with the ghost on your shoulders.

Fear, though. Fear is different. Fear is like a fire. It burns and takes and suffocates them. Pulls them under the ocean, into the void. It takes their life, their bodies, their DNA. It burns worse then anger and hurts more than loneliness.

It leaves them utterly helpless, and they  hate it.

(  _she dedicated her life to studying her child_. )

“I've gone too far. Is this it? My death? Is it time?”

The Ood stares. A melody, a song, a four-four drum beat sounds in their ears. They flash back to an achy stiff bed, straps around their arms and a warm hand brushing hair of their forehead, a motherly voice humming them to sleep. 

The snow is cold and their breath huffs out in clouds. The ground scraps their hands but the Ood still stares, singing. They feel millions of eyes burning into the back of their head, but they know no one is there.

They think of the Rose, Martha, Donna. Mickey and Wilfred and Jackie. The Master, their oldest friend. How he would love to see them like this, fallen to their knees, shaking in the cold, all the rage evaporated.

It makes them wanna run, but their legs don’t work.

(  _it took her years. several of the child's regenerations_. )

There once was a man, a human, who once asked ‘If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?’ He said yes, because God heard it. 

They don’t believe in a god, because if there was one they wouldn’t have to go around and save people all the time. 

But there  is someone watching them fall. Multiple someones, at the back of their mind, past selves. It feels like a hundred, maybe a thousand, but they’ve only lived so long. They swirl like smoke and laugh cruel mocking words.

“I don’t want to go.” They say to the empty room. Regeneration burns their entire body, much like fear, they realize with a start. 

_If that isn’t a funny thought_ . Someone whispers. It sounds like a child.

_And my mother told me son let it be_

_Sold my soul to the calling_

_Sold my soul to a sweet melody_

_Now I'm gone, now I'm gone, now I'm gone_

They never realized they feared death until it became permanent.

No more lives left, they’re at the end of the road, end of journey. They hate endings, hate the last few pages, but they hate a lot of things. Life and death are two of the biggest. Yet, they still play the dangerous game with the two.

Who’ll die next? Who’ll live forever? 

Is it them? Is it not?

Questions form in their head, all coloured by the urge to run because they know the answer. Death, in some way or another, had always been with them, all throughout their lives. 

(  _she tested the theory on herself. spliced into herself the genetic ability to regenerate_. ) 

They don’t know why they run. They’ve been it too long to stop.

There’s something clinging their back, biting at their ankles. It whispers false promises in their ears, says everything is going to be okay, and they almost believe it because it sounds like a familiar motherly voice hidden in the depths of their memories.

They’re the one who forgets and they forget the voice, forget why they forget, forget everything. Forever they forget, and they accept it but then they forget why they did that as well.

(  _the planet of gallifrey evolved_. )

They stare at the Daleks head on. The Daleks frighten them, very much so, but the fear of this being their final battle is stronger. So they bluster, snap like a wounded animal, dance around like a madman, fall into the same old rhythm it’s almost comforting.

The fear consumes them from the inside side out, makes it hard to breath. Death clouds their senses, the black void creeps in around the edges of their vision. It was like they were gonna regenerate, but instead of light it was darkness.

But then ... they live. They keep on going.

Clara. It was Clara, she said the Timelords gave them a new cycle. More bodies, more lives, more breaths in their lungs and beats in their heart. Expect for some reason, it sits awkwardly, like a teacup placed too close to the edge of the table. To many cracks, not quite fitting in the edges.

Like alway, they ignore it. Ignore it forever until forever comes to an end. Forever and always forever and always forever and always forever and —

(  _the timeless child became the base genetic code for all gallifreyans within the citadel_. )

_ Oh gimme that fire _

_ Oh gimme that fire _

_ Oh gimme that fire _

_ Burn, burn, burn _

“I confess.” They say to the wind, to death, to anyone who will listen. “I didn't leave Gallifrey because I was bored! That was a lie! It's always been a lie!”

The Veil stops, fingers still outstretched. 

“Not enough? You want more? I was scared!” They admit, spitting words like venom. “I ran because I was scared! Is that what you want me to say? Is that true enough for you?”

A pause, no sound in the empty castle. Then, the monster backs away. It lowers its hand, done hunting, done being the predator. Shaken from their confession, they peel themself off the wall. It’s fingers were still posed to grab their head, even when its hand rested at its side. They frown, and take off once again, footsteps echoing in the hallway.

Claras painting mocks them. The Veil, the Monster, the Wolf, haunts their head. 

( _the foundling had become the founder_. )

The desert is hot. It floats up from through soles of their shoes, warms their entire body. But the confession dial is cold and smooth in their hand, and they grip it so hard their knuckles turn white.

“Get off my planet.” They tell Rassilon. They throw the confession dial down, stripped free of their truth. They confessed to the judge, to the monster, and await their sentence.

The founder stares back, mouth twisted into a emotion of distaste. Then, he turned and walked back out across the red sand, robes kicking up dust like a whirlwind.

It’s not until the old mans figure disappears behind a hill do they let their shoulders slump. They can still taste the remnants of soup on their tongue. Fear lingers in their chest, squeezing their hearts hard enough to burst, and they hear the buzzing of flies in their ear.

_Let me be brave_. Claras voice mocks in their head.  _Let me be brave._

They run because they are scared, and they’ve never stopped running.

( _and the rest, as they say, is history._ )

_ Ghosts and devils come a-callin _

_ Calling my name oh, lost in the fire _

_ Sweet virginial blood is calling _

_ Calling my name oh, lost in the fire _

The Matrix is vast and empty.

( _oh Doctor, really? haven't you worked this out yet?_ )

They’re alone in it. Staring at the white void, floating in nothing, standing on an invisible plane. They don’t feel heat or cold, not even numbness. There’s no light source, but they see fine. Not like there was anything to see.

They almost wish it was dark. Then they could pretend it was the night sky, without the stars. They like stars. They’re comforting. They chase away the fear.

The revelation of the Timeless Child hasn’t really set in yet. They can’t be the Child, can they? They would remember, they fear the unknown, they would never let themself forget. But they don’t feel fear, do they? They feel afraid, they’re laying on that rooftop, the wolf haunts their dreams —

They have bigger things to think about, to worry about, so they shove the memories and the fear that comes with it aside and focus on getting of here.

( _the child is you. you are the timeless child_. )

They fall on the floor with a thump. They squeeze their eyes shut at the sudden light and feeling in their body. The floor is cold and warm at the same time and everything hurts for a brief, blinding moment but it fades into a tingling sensation that’s easy to ignore.

There’s footsteps, and rustling of clothing. Someone gently grabs their wrist, takes their pulse. They can feel both of them fluttering in their neck, hear their hearts beat against their ribcage. The other persons skin is warm, soft, but still the little bit of contact makes their skin hurt, but it’s nothing compared to the pain swirling around in their head. 

The memories, the experiments, their  mother —

They sit up, growling. Fear curls in their hearts hot enough to burn. They can ignore their past, ignore the monsters clinging to their back, but they can never ignore the fear. 

( _you always have been . . ._ )

_ Oh gimme that fire _

_ Oh gimme that fire _

_ Oh gimme that fire _

_ Burn, burn, burn _

Fear is like a fire.

On nights they can’t sleep because of the memories choking their brain or on days they can’t think because of the smoke coating their tongue they wander the halls of their TARDIS. In everything, she is their one constant.

Then there are some days and some nights where everything becomes too much and they run. A wolf howls, flies buzz and children laugh as they run from fear, run from the needles poking at their skin and the burning sensation across their entire body.

It does not matter what they looked like, because they’re all the same in the end. Same software, different casing.

But here, they can’t run. Can’t even wander. Their cell is small, barley livable. They pace and drag their hand across the wall, letting the rock scratch up their fingertips. None of the guards talk to them, but that’s okay, because they never really needed another person for a conversation.

( _is it hurting, Doctor? i hope it's hurting, because it really hurt me._ )

Oh yes. It hurts and hurts and it hurts a lot and it  burns . The fear of uncertainty, of the unknown, scares them more than anything they’ve ever faced. It easy to say stuff in the moment, to say it makes you stronger —

( _for the first time in my lives, i can honestly say every word is true_ )

They wished he was lying. But when they saw those memories, saw the childs past, they knew it was theirs. Their memories, their life. It makes their hands shake and eyes water. Their mother — adopted mother — tortured and experimented on them, when they were still young enough to trust her.

And then all the fear makes sense. All the fire raging inside them, the wolf snapping at their heels, the monster clinging to their back. It all makes sense.

( _you may have made me, but i have destroyed you._ )

Yes. Yes, he had. Finally. 

They stare at the ceiling. It’s grey, and blank, and they desperately wish for something to do to stop their racing mind. They wonder how long they’ll be here, probably forever. Apparently they can live that long now, and no one is coming for them. Not now, anyway.

_Pity. No stars_. Their previous voice echos in their head. It wasn’t mocking. Just sad.

“I hoped there’d be stars.” They whisper to the empty cell. A wolf cries, hollow and sad, in the corner of their mind. 

There’s no room to run here, but there’s plenty of space in their head.

_ Oh gimme that fire _

_ Oh gimme that fire _

_ Oh gimme that fire _

_ Burn, burn, burn _

**Author's Note:**

> oof alright so my next planned fic is a multi-chaptered DW fic,, then possibly Mandalorian or MCU whichever one I finish first. 
> 
> as always I appreciate constructive criticism and thanks for reading I guess!!


End file.
